


Shades of Cool

by NovemberStorm



Category: Call of Duty (Video Games)
Genre: Explicit Language, F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-03
Updated: 2018-10-22
Packaged: 2019-07-24 13:55:20
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,073
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16176449
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NovemberStorm/pseuds/NovemberStorm
Summary: Master Sergeant Frank Woods is going to go down in history as one of the men responsible for removing two of the most dangerous men from the living world. The man is hard as nails, and is crazy enough to do what needs to be done to see another day. He has spent nearly his entire life calculating, and anticipating enemy movement. ...Too bad it does shit to help with figuring out the mind of a woman, huh?





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Frank is hands down, one of my FAVORITE video game characters of all time. Tweaking the campaign storyline only slightly! Thank you very much for reading, and stick around to see where this goes!

Baikonur… _gahhh_. A fuckin’ thorn in his side.  
  
That entire cosmodrome was theirs for the taking. There were barely any survivors. Hell, they took down _Soyuz II_ while it was in mid-air— _mid-fuckin-air!_ And yet they couldn’t kill the _one_ fucker that they went through all of that trouble for in the first place. … _Dragovich_. 

“ …So what happens now?” Frank had asked Agent Hudson, who sat across the way in the escape vehicle.  
  
“ We wait.” He answered gruffly.  
  
“ Heheh… _heh_. Hear that, Mason? We get to sit around and fingerpop our assholes while this threat to humankind keeps his plot in motion.”  
  
Alex heaved a sigh. “ I take it we don’t have any leads left?”  
  
“ Affirmative.” Hudson replied, unphased. The guy could have his ass on fire and he’d still be cool as a cucumber. That indifferent shit _really_ got to Frank sometimes. “ It should go _without saying_ that we are scouting for intel as quickly as we physically can.” His cold gaze eyed the Master Sergeant, having a short tolerance for his sarcasm. “ However, we have just single-handedly prevented _Ascension’s_ most damaging piece of the puzzle from being placed. This is going to set Dragovich back for a while. …Long enough for us to pick up his tracks.”  
  
“ You’ll all be called when we need you, as always.”  
  
Puh… Frank was expecting a few weeks, maybe a month or two. … _Not five fuckin’ years_.

“ Well _shit_. …And here I thought you were calling to wish me Happy New Year.” He snickered quietly, his crystal blue gaze appearing icy as it mindlessly watched the falling snow flurries outside his window. Hudson’s _heaving_ sigh was heard loudly.  
  
“ _Just_ … make sure you’re on that plane. You should have enough time to get everything in order.”  
  
“ Where to this time?”  
  
“ Mary Esther.”  
  
Frank’s thick, dark chocolate brows furrowed. “ _Mary Esther_ … where the fuck is that?”  
  
“ Florida.”  
  
“ ….”  
  
Hudson huffed in frustration, “ _Christ_ —Frank, it’s the town next to the Hurlburt Airfield, a special operations command.”  
  
“ _Ah_ … could’ve just said that to start with.”  
  
“ _Make that plane_ , Woods.”  _Click_.   
  
Frank pulled back the phone from his ear to regard it with a chuckle, soon returning it to the receiver. " Prickly bastard..." He murmured to himself in amusement. Getting under Hudson's skin was an  _artform_ , and that made him fuckin' Picasso.   
  
The man began to pack his things-- well, what little he had in a rented furnished highrise. He'd have to say goodbye to Philly yet again, and it probably wouldn't be his last time doing so. Anticipation flooded through him. The feeling of having  _purpose_ again... nothin' like it.  
  
It was time for him to get back to work, do what he did best. ...Or at least he thought.


	2. The Waiting Game Begins

Frank’s C-141 landed sooner rather than later. And once boots were on ground, familiar faces and areas of the compound were setting off bells left and right in his memory. He _has_ been here before! _“You’ve seen one, you’ve seen ‘em all,”_ Frank mused with a bark of laughter to follow. He’s been to nearly every special operations installation in the country, and the only thing that changed at all was the damn weather. And speakin’ of which, the lazy little beach town didn’t look so inviting with gloomy clouds and mist. However, as he made his way over to one of the briefing rooms, Frank’s gaze lit up at the sight across the way, a smile broadly spreading across his features.  
  
“ …WELL IF IT AIN’T MY FAVORITE BABY-FACE!!!” He beamed, slinging a long, thickly muscled arm covered by the deep olive sleeve of his Marine Corps work uniform over the Captain’s shoulders. “ Good to see ya, big guy.”  
  
A deep rumble of a chuckle left Mason, giving the bulky Master Sergeant a hard, endearing smack to his upper back. “ Yeah, you too, Frank.”  
  
_Ahhh_ , alright, he’ll admit it; he had a soft spot for the guy. Plus, he’d been a little worried about him. He never talked about Vorkuta and all of that. “ …Why’re ya lookin’ at me funny?”  
  
Alex chortled, his judgmental brow quirked. “ Heheh… we’re not at the front anymore. What kind of shave is _that_?”  
  
Frank’s brows slightly rose, his expression mimicking a confused dog as a hand of his subconsciously rose to stroke at his jaw. “ Oh, _what_? I shaved last night.” A white lie. Couple of days ago, actually. Heh, _clearly_ he’d ignore the scraping sounds of his fingers against the five ‘o’ clock shadow. His gaze soon grew piercing, “ Besides, I fuckin’ **dare** someone to tell me to go correct it.”  
  
Snickering, Alex parted his lips and--  
  
“ _Ah_ ch-ch-ch, now now. Don’t make me beat your ass in front of everyone.”  
  
Mason’s gaze narrowed playfully along with his _dramatic_ pause. “ …You, me, in the parking lot. Be there or be square.”  
  
“ There isn’t going to be anything _square_ about smackin’ you around against all of those parked cars. You sure you wanna do this?” The taunts from Frank were _obviously_ light-hearted, but the foxlike snicker that Mason returned was the only forewarning for his next words:  
  
“ Huh… funny. Did somethin’ similar with _your Mother_  last night, and she didn’t have any complaints.”  
  
Frank’s brows _shot up_ in shock, “ _Oh-ho-ho, **BOY**_ —“  
  
These two full-grown men, these _killing machines_ \--- were guffawing and shoving each other around like absolute morons, when Hudson would clear his throat **loudly** as he’d enter, looking to the both of them flatly. “ Mason, Woods.” He’d greet, motioning for them to sit at the briefing table.  
  
“ I’m going to keep this short,” He’d begin, clearing his throat as he’d open the manila folder with the _CLASSIFIED_ stamp across it that he’d brought with him. As the two SOG members began looking over the contents and updated dossiers of the enemy, Hudson continued. “ We’ve got a few leads, gentleman. Out heavy evidence findings have given us more than probable suspicion of Soviet activity in Viet Cong. There are various locations, but for now, you will start in Khe Sanh. …Thing is, we don’t want any attention put onto you and the rest of the SOG team, so you’ll be catching the next cargo bird out of here.”  
  
“ …I don’t know how long that’s going to take. Hopefully a few days, but it could also be a few weeks. Clearance keeps getting denied due to weather. …So in the meantime, you both will pose as residents of Mary Esther.”  
  
The narrow-eyed, _bewildered_ stare Frank would shoot Hudson was borderline-hilarious. “ _Come again?_ ”  
  
“ You and Mason will occupy a furnished two-bedroom in one of the rural neighborhoods. Because we’re all adults here, I’d like to think I can _skip over_ the good behavior speech?”  
  
“ Yeah, I think we’re good.” Mason would affirm, raising to his feet and pressing his hands to the table surface. “ So where’s our set of wheels?”  
  
“ Everything you’ll need will be in the USO office.”  
  
_‘Ah, good_ ,’ Frank would chime in his thoughts with a content little grin. He could only stand the CIA agent’s presence for so long.


	3. Confrontation

“ G-G-Good a-aftern-noon, M-mister! I uh… “ The poor freckle-faced boy was quaking at the knees. He wasn’t exactly ready for a six-foot tall grizzly man to answer the front door.  
  
“ _Yeah?_ Whaddya want, kid; spit it out.”  
  
“ M-my basketball, it… it was thrown into your backyard by accident. I’m real sorry, Mister. I-I—“  
  
The boy fell silent, eyes growing wide as Frank reached to the side behind the door, soon holding the worn, very used basketball in one hand. “ Figured someone would come around for this. Thing is…” Those crystal blues of his grew _icy_ , his gaze narrowing. “ The damned thing almost knocked me out if it weren’t for dodging out of the way in time.”  
  
_Shiiing_!  
  
The boy gasped _loudly_ and shook from startlement, as Frank’s other hand suddenly withdrew a ballistic knife, thrusting it _hard_ into the basketball’s center and deflating it with a loud **pop!**  
  
He’d rip the knife out, plopping the depressing-looking, deflated basketball into the whimpering boy’s arms, causing him to turn and walk out in a mess of tears. Frank was unphased, allowing the screen door to idly shut behind him as he’d make his way towards the kitchen.  
  
In the meantime, Alex saw the _entire thing_ , his mouth slightly agape with one arm slung along the back of the couch. “ Damn, Frank… that was kinda harsh.”  
  
Frank grunted as he opened the refrigerator to grab a beer, popping the cap with his back molars and spitting it into the nearby garbage can. “ Maybe it was. The kid is better off hating me and staying the hell away.” He grumbled casually, before plopping himself lazily on the couch next to Mason.  
  
Thing was, Alex couldn’t really say much; it was true. Everything SOG did was undocumented, and one of the **cardinal** rules was to stay under the radar. And those commies were capable of more than either of the two were willing to admit, it was better not to risk anyone’s safety.  
  
The two had been here about a week. Hopefully not too much longer, and they’d be out of everyone’s hair here anyway.  
  
The afternoon was lazy… and the two battled with a strange mixture of relief and restlessness. It was odd… to not have somewhere to be, an objective to complete. You’d figure they should be enjoying this little vacation, right? As the hours drifted by, it grew easier to relax as their buzz increased… and also keeping an eye on every entrance to the house and knowing the exact locations of every weapon helped.  
  
…However, both jumped a good _foot_ in the air off of the couch at the sudden _hard_ banging on the door.  
  
“ _Jesus--!!_ ”  
  
“ _Shhhit!_ ”  
  
Both were silent… staring at the door. And again--- _BANG BANG BANG BANG BANG._  
  
Frank and Alex glanced to each other… and as Frank was slowly rounding the couch to go grab the M14 by the door, all of his paranoia melted away in an instant.  
  
“ _I know you’re home._ ” A voice boomed. Female. Though her voice wasn’t mousey or annoying like every other dame Frank has come across. Hers was lower, raspier.  
  
“ _I am **not leaving** until someone answers this goddamn door, you hear me?!”_  
  
Both men exchanged looks—risen brows and pursed lips. This mystery chick is _definitely_ pissed _._ Silently, Frank pantomimed with his hand in a patting motion, for Alex to sit back down on the couch. Everything was cool… he’s got this.

Clearing his throat, he straightened up, his hand opening the screen door. The main door followed, and when Frank stood there in the doorway? …A rush of **_heat_** coursed through him.  
  
…Oh, he sure as _hell_ knew who this woman was.  
  
Well… maybe not personally, but—he knew she lived a few houses down on this street. Why? …Because he’d nearly hit a parked car when he’d passed, watching her get out of her car and walk towards her front door. Never in his _life_ had Frank’s eyes beheld such a big, round, perky… _luscious_ ass. And those thighs without a _doubt_ showed that the girl liked to eat her meat.  
  
You see… there’s a reason Frank has never had an old lady to call his own. His other names given to him were ‘prick’, ‘asshole’, ‘jackass’… the list could go on and on. And what could he say, women wanted the _gentlemanly_ type—and he was far as _fuck_ from that.  
  
The type of women Frank tended to attract weren’t the highest standard… so you fuckin’ _bet_ it was difficult for him to ignore when a dame was capable of turning him into a complete **_dog_**. He couldn’t even _remember_ the last time.    
  
He uh… heh, _may_ have been guilty of purposely taking the route that required rolling by the girl’s house, hoping she’d walk out. He’d gotten lucky one other time, and _fuck_ , she was just as gorgeous everywhere else. A grade-A, _ample_ set of tits that were _begging_ for his face to wedge in between… sunkissed olive skin, and thick black hair that fell in tousled waves a few inches past her shoulders.  
  
And when Frank answered that door, he couldn’t _help_ but be stunned into silence for a second or two, now being close enough to see the color of her eyes. They were a bright hazel… looked green when the sun hit them a certain way. And uh… heheh, _maybe_ he ignored the fact that those stunning eyes were blazing with anger.  
  
“ What uh… What seems to be the problem?” Frank inquired, his voice dipping into a husk. The guy couldn’t help himself.  
  
“ Problem??” She began, eyes wide. “ You deflated a basketball in front of a _child_ with a knife! What kind of fucking psychopath are you?!”  
  
Sure enough… the frecklefaced boy from earlier would be timidly poking his head around from behind her. Unfortunately… Frank’s defensive tended to _immediately_ pop up when he was being yelled at. Hot chick or not, he wasn’t going to fucking _tolerate_ being spoken to like this.  
  
“ Look, the little brat threw his basketball into my fucking yard! Should’ve thought twice!!” Frank barked, squaring his shoulders and taking a step forward. But oh, this woman was _ballsy_ , her chest nearly brushing his as she would _not_ take a step back. She was pretty short—maybe reached his shoulder, at best. But oh, he’d never _seen_ such fury that only seemed to deepen over each passing second.  
  
The woman _huffed_ , putting her hands on her hips. “ Are you _serious_? Do you hear yourself right now?! THIS IS A CHILD. _Regardless_ , he didn’t deserve to have the living shit scared out of him for a basketball!! I _demand_ you apologize to him this _second_!!” She poked his chest hard with her small index finger, which would go ignored as Frank’s stubborn tendencies increased tenfold.  
  
“ I’m not apologizing for _shit_!” Frank bellowed, eyes wide and brows furrowed angrily.  
  
“ APOLOGIZE **NOW** , OR I’M PHONING THE POLICE.”  
  
“ Frank…” Alex’s voice from the couch was cautious and wary. Frank in turn glanced over his shoulder to Mason, tense and his expression showing _complete_ irritation. ….Yeah, he could just hear Hudson’s bitching now.  
  
“…”  
  
He gradually pivoted his head back to look towards the two with narrowed eyes and a sneer. The bitch seemed to _know_ he had no choice too somehow, her expression nearly holding a smug note that he could almost pinpoint.  
  
After an almost uncomfortable staring contest and period of silence, Frank heaved out a sigh. “ _Fine_ ,” He growled.  
  
“ His name is Dennis.” She’d inform him, stepping aside so the boy could step forward.  
  
Frank regarded the boy with a head tilt, eyeing him for a moment. “ …Sorry for scaring ya, Dennis. Just… keep your damn basketball off of my property from now on, alright?” He’d slowly raise a large hand, holding it out for a handshake.  
  
“ Go on…” The woman coaxed the boy warmly with a grin, putting an encouraging hand on his shoulder.  
  
“ …I accept your apology, uh…”  
  
“ Frank.”  
  
“ Mister Frank.” Dennis grinned, his tiny hand being engulfed by his.  
  
“ Alright, I’m sure Mister Frank has to get back to his business. I’ll walk you home.”  
  
“ Sure thing, Miss Vi.”  
  
Her warm grin towards Dennis soon turned into a glare of _warning_ over her shoulder to Frank as they’d begin to walk back towards the street. Frank’s stare right back wouldn’t waver, tilting his strong chin up a bit so he could peer down his nose to her, thick arms folded across his chest.  
  
Alpha versus alpha, it seemed. Most women wouldn’t _dare_ confront a dangerous man armed with a knife, and yet she took that chance. …He couldn’t tell if that was gutsy or stupid of her, but… _fuck_ , she turned him on like a fucking light switch.  
  
Quite sneakily, he’d adjust himself down below as he’d shut both doors. Hands dropping to his sides, he’d turn to face the inside of the one-story house, only to pause at the sight of Alex. ...Who was peering over at him with the _biggest_ shit-eating grin on his face.  
  
“ _Don’t_. Say. A _fucking_ word. You and your dumb-ass-fuckin-clown-grin,” Frank grumbled, sauntering towards the kitchen for another beer.  
 


	4. Late Night Shopping

“ Think it’d be crazy if I just walked up to her front door?”   
  
A deep chuckle _rumbled_ from Alex, who was behind the wheel of their temporary ride. “ Uh, _yeah_.”  
  
“ You’re right… heh, she’d probably slap me or some shit, I don’t know.”   
  
A groan left Alex under his breath—for the past few days, Frank just would _not_ shut up about the chick that banged on the door and ripped him a new asshole. Though he _would_ admit… never would he have expected Woods of all people to be so damn _smitten_. It was both entertaining _and_ annoying as shit to deal with. “ Not that you could anyway, man. You know the protocol.”   
  
Frank whined, “ Maaaan, _fuck_ the protocol. Admit it, ol’ Tennis Ball has no fuckin’ clue what we do when we leave base.” The man would be left to pout silently as they’d pull up into the near-empty parking lot of the grocery store. Leave it to two bachelors to grocery shop at odd hours of the night.

Their cart was full of junk, and anything easy to make. “ Go get some bread and shit for sandwiches, I’ll get the rest.” Heh, barking off orders just came naturally to the guy, didn’t it? Frank didn’t wait around for Alex’s acknowledgement, already out of the isle and heading towards the meat department.   
  
…However, his very aloof expression _swiftly_ morphed into that dumbfounded stupor that was beginning to grow common on his rugged features. _There she was_. Still looking hotter than all hell with her hair up; and _damn_ , did she make a windbreaker and jeans look good. His gaze looked uncharacteristically bright, a grin _so_ giddy, it could rival a kid’s on Christmas morning. Suddenly very aware of his surroundings, he glanced over his right, then left, making sure Alex wasn’t on this side of the store.

Frank’s footing would be careful and quiet… trying to appear as casual as possible as he’d soon be standing at arm’s length away from her. His hands rested casually in the pockets of his jeans, appearing to be deciding on what lunchmeat he wanted to grab.   
  
_‘What are the fucking odds?!’_   
  
Damn, she smelt nice… a mix of spice, and something sweet. And for the first time in his life, Frank for the _life_ of him was at a loss for words. How does he even _begin_ talking to her after what ha---  
  
“ …Came over here to stab the meat too?”   
  
Frank practically got whiplash, his neck snapped to look at her so fast— _clearly_ being caught off guard by that smartass comment of hers. She didn’t appear to be as upset with him as he anticipated her to be… instead, she shot him a wily little grin, and a teasing side-eye.   
  
A handsome crooked grin crept up on Frank’s features, a hand coming up to rub at his jaw as he’d quirk a brow at her, eyeing the sliced deli cuts in front of them after. “ Doesn’t sound like too bad of an idea, come to think of it.” Frank responded with _obvious_ sarcasm.   
  
A couple of seconds of silence.  
  
“ …Not many people willingly get in the face of someone potentially armed like that.” He couldn’t help but comment. What could he say, he was curious.  
  
The woman idly held a package of ham cuts in her hand, looking at the label as she’d casually respond. “ …Maybe that is because I am _highly_ confident that you wouldn’t succeed in hurting myself _or_ the boy if you tried.”   
  
Her gaze rose to meet Frank’s, which was _full_ of speechless shock at such a bold ass response. _Well shit_. “ …And _what_ do you do for a living, exactly?”   
  
She chuckled breathy, placing the deli cuts in her arm basket. “ I was a cop.” 

Frank’s brows rose, grinning dumbly and _clearly_ pleased by the new information. “ Yeah? _Hah_. Well _that_ explains everything.” It was evident that the lunchmeat selection in front of him would continue to go ignored, pivoting his body to face her with clear interest. “ What do you do now?”  
  
“ What do _you_ do?”   
  
Frank blinked… and fell silent. Heh… alright. Touché. Maybe he _was_ getting too nosey.  
  
The woman snickered,” It’s not the first time I’ve seen men that look like they’re built to kill come and go from the neighborhood.”   
  
“ Observant, aren’t ya.” Nothing seemed to get past her, didn’t it? …He had to be careful. Though at the same time, he was a great judge of character. There wasn’t an ounce of malice in that mouth-watering body of hers---and knowing she was prior fuzz, it explained how she picked up a lot of details about him so quickly. “ …So you know my name. What’s yours? …The kid called you Miss Vi.” (pronounced “vee”)  
  
“ Mhm. Short for Vitalia.”   
  
“ Vitalia…” Frank repeated, testing it out. He beamed down to her, trying to ignore the flips in his stomach. “ _Beautiful_.”   
  
Vitalia grinned, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear. “ Thank you. …It’s Italian, means “life”. My parents are immigrants from Sicily, was born and raised in Brooklyn.” She seemed much more relaxed, turning to face him as well. “ What about you?”   
  
Frank smirked. “ Philadelphia, born and raised. No exotic blood ties here--- just skin equivalent to a fuckin’ polar bear and arteries that can handle buckets of grease.” He joked, finding himself beaming like a damn _idiot_ as she laughed.   
  
“ _Damn_ , your laugh is sexy…” Frank husked out, not even being able to contain his attraction towards her if he tried.   
  
“ … _Yeah_?” Vitalia cooed. …And _fuck_ , she was eyeing him like he was a raw cut himself. He wasn’t _used_ to a woman being so open like that. Being used to the hard-to-get types, he felt like he was receiving a royal fuckin’ treatment. “ …Well maybe you could hear it more often if you asked me for my number.”   
  
Frank’s brows _shot_ up. …Was she fucking with him? …You know what---fuck it. If she was, he’d go down with dignity. “ Alright then, _Vitalia_ …” He’d dare to step forward, almost stepping into her personal space— _almost_. He’d lean in, his gaze smoldering down to her. “ …May I have your phone number?”  
  
Ooo, that mild lusty _haze_ that washed over her features—damn, if he didn’t know any better, he’d think he was having the same effect on her that she had on him. She still held herself together confidently, tilting her chin up towards him and offering an inviting little grin of her own. “ Thought you wouldn’t ask.”   
  
Frank waited patiently as she’d rummage through her purse, watching as she pulled out a pen. Women always had everything in those damned things somehow. She chuckled sheepishly, “ Sorry, all I’ve got is napkins.”  
  
“ Hey, that’s alright. I promise you I’ll take better care of that napkin than my damn birth certificate.”   
  
The chemistry between the two was _undeniable_ , the heavy flirting happening naturally by this point. …But of _course_ things couldn’t go _too_ perfectly.   
  
“ You got the lunchmeat, _loverboy_?”  
  
Frank visibly _tensed_ in annoyance from Alex’s question, as he snickered from across the way.  
  
“ _Ehh_ , give me a minute, would ya?” Frank sneered, reluctantly grabbing whatever lunch meat packs were in front of him and sending a glare over his shoulder to the Captain.   
  
Vitalia was snickering herself, holding out the napkin to him, waving it playfully for him to take. “ Don’t keep me waiting, alright?”   
  
Frank’s larger hand would gently curl around her petite hand, giving it a small squeeze as he’d lean in. _Just_ enough so that his face hovered a few inches above hers. “ Wouldn’t _dream_ of it.” He murmured softly, for her ears only. A grin just _dripping_ with dark promise spread across his masculine features, his crystal gaze claiming hers. “ Talk to you soon, Vitalia.”    
  
His prowess lasted for maybe another two… three seconds, until he’d made it back to Alex’s side, who let out a low, taunting bellow, “ **_Ooooo-hoo-hoooo~_** ” You _bet_ he wouldn’t sleep on the opportunity to give Woods shit like this!

Red _flared_ across Frank’s cheeks and along the sides of his neck, smirking wide as he’d give Alex a _rough_ shove, both of them looking like two overgrown, buff children as they made their way towards the cashier.


End file.
